At a poker table, perhaps
nothing is more disturbing than a well-tanned man. This is a man of luxury.
Has the time in his schedule to lie beneath the sun so that it may color
him. Or worse, he has the time and money to lie in a tanning booth. He
never wants for food or shelter. He doesn't have to wake up to an alarm
clock or show up late to meetings, unshaven and smelling of last night's
intoxicated adventures.[Full Story]

Scenes from the life of a racing greyhound.

Track Star

A deep,
scratchy voice announces their presence over the loudspeaker. "HeeeerecomesHollywood!" The gates open, and eight
muzzled greyhounds spring forth in a speedy, thundering mass of bobbing
fur, each wearing a brightly colored, numbered jersey. Tiny puffs of dirt
follow their sinewy legs. This is the seventh race of the night at Mardi
Gras Racetrack and GamingCenter in HallandaleBeach, the highest-paying dog track in Florida. It's August
19, 2006.
The race begins at 9:23 p.m. At 9:24, the audience will witness
something horrid. [Full
Story]

Pompano Beach harness racing: A select group of drivers carries on
with an endangered sport.

The
Last Gladiators

From the
musty sound booth atop the PompanoPark grandstand, announcer Frank Salive has a rare vantage point on a fleeting sight.
Seventy feet below him, ten men clad in Crayola-colored
silk jerseys and helmets brandish whips — each man piloting a small
horse-drawn cart around the chalky dirt track. From here, the action is a
cloudy, anachronistic ballet. [Full
Story]

The Caliente’s inaugural season had blood, sweat, broken bones, and a lot of lace.

Friday
Night Tights

In
seconds, beauty morphs into brutality. The quarterback takes the ball and
drops back three steps, right elbow cocked, eyes darting across the field. Anonka Dixon spots her favorite receiver, Tina Caccavale, but she's double-covered. The quarterback
searches for another receiver but instead sees a tall defensive end
barreling down hard.[Full
Story]

Donny Adair dreams of getting
African-American kids off the streets and into the woods. It won’t be
easy, but Deadeye Donny has a way of making things go.

The
African American Hunting Show

After more than three and a half hours in the deer
blind, gazing silently over acres of auburn forest and dried brush and
gashes of mud as black as the Mississippi night, the only sign of wildlife
we'd seen all afternoon was a plump blue jay nesting under a bush. The wind
was picking up and the temperature was dropping. We knew it wouldn't be
long before we'd have to call it a day.[Full
Story]

Professional eaters descend upon South Florida for the great pickle battle.

The Great
Pickle Battle

They line
up across the stage: kings of consumption, sultans of scarf. A half-dozen
cameras hover around them, zooming in on waistlines and jaw lines and a few
anxious, ticking fingers. In another setting, they might be freakish
outcasts, but here they're revered professional athletes ready for action.[Full
Story]

In a bowling alley one night, Bill Fong
came so close to perfection that it nearly killed him.

The Most
Amazing Bowling Story Ever

When Bill
Fong approaches the lane, 15-pound bowling ball in hand, he tries not to
breathe. He tries not to think about not breathing. He wants his body to
perform a series of complex movements that his muscles themselves have
memorized. In short, he wants to become a robot.[Full
Story]

Broke, blackballed, and out of work, T.O.
looks for another chance.

Terrell
Owens’s Darkest Days

Since
signing with the Allen Wranglers, Terrell Owens hasn't exactly been excited
to talk to reporters. Back in his Philadelphia days, in the prime of his career,
he used to hold press conferences all the time, sometimes in his own
driveway. He couldn't wait to be on camera. He would tell reporters what
questions to ask. He never shied away from a microphone: not in a locker
room, not in a studio, and certainly not on his own reality show. [Full Story]